A Ride Down Crazy Street
by Kimuthy99
Summary: Sequel to Dean Winchester's Worst Fear. Sam and Dean are investigating some crazy deaths. A man gets hit by a piano, another an anvil. These cartoon deaths and a mysterious hunter named Matt give the boys more trouble than they're worth.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay. Sorry about this being so late. I had a lot of things going on. But here is the Sequel to Dean Winchester's Worst Fear. This takes place a few hours after the my last story (DWWF) So I hope you like it.**

"So, Dean, you're saying that you dreamt that I went all-out demon and what, killed you?" Sam asked finishing packing up the Impala and slamming the trunk.

"Yeah," Dean answered, "I know, it's crazy, but I just can't get it out of my head. It was just so real."

"But you know it was just a dream," Sam answered confidently but then asked, "Dean, you know I would never hurt you, right?"

When Dean didn't answer right away, Sam continued, feeling slight annoyance at his brother, "Dean I would never do that. I wouldn't hurt you, I couldn't."

"I know you wouldn't do that now, Sammy. But who knows what Yellow Eyes could do to you," Dean glanced lovingly at his little brother. "And dad said…"

"Have you ever, just once thought that Dad could be wrong," Sam answered, raising his voice slightly.

"I'm not gonna fight you," Dean answered, not wanting yet another argument revolving around their dad. Sam and John had always fought, but the man was dead now, couldn't Sam just let him rest in peace! "Did you find a case?"

"Yeah," Sam answered, "only a couple hours away. Some really crazy crap, there has been a middle aged man killed…"

"Well that doesn't sound like a case for us," Dean interjected.

"Let me finish," Sam continued, "cause of death, had a piano dropped on top of him. 'There were little birds flying around his head' says one witness."

"Weird, but not quite our kind of weird," Dean assumed.

"They were cartoon birds," Sam declared. "Then there was a guy who strolled off a five story building, looked down, and then started falling, hitting the ground with a splat and completely flattening himself."

"Okay now you got my interest," Dean stated turning towards Sam with a glint of curiosity. "Are there anymore wild-e coyote deaths?"

"One more," Sam speculated, skimming the website for more important information. "A man got hit with an anvil with ACME inscribed on the side."

"Okay, maybe this is our kind of thing," Dean concluded. "Which exit do I take?"

"This next one," Sam answered, "Lake Shangrila, here we come."

A few hours later…

Dean flashed his badge to an elderly woman who witnessed the piano falling on the man.

"So, ma'am, can you tell me what you saw?" Dean asked the gray haired lady.

"But, young man, I already told the police everything I know," the little old lady stated in a sweet voice.

"I know Mrs…" Dean stuttered.

"Mrs. Gadnud," she answered.

"Mrs. Gadnud, this is just a routine thing. The sooner you answer my question the sooner I'll get out of your hair."

"Fine. I went out to get my mail two mornings ago. After checking my mailbox, I glanced up toward the building because the cutest little bird caught my eye. I am an avid bird watcher, you know. When I returned to my porch swing, I was sorting through my mail. This young man walks by and BAM. A piano falls on him. Then I hear these little birdies singing and flying around the piano. They looked like those birdies that would fly around that poor cat after he tried chasing that poor little mouse."

"That's it?" Dean asked.

"Yes sweetie, that's it. Nothing weird. No other problems that day. Would you like some cookies before you go?" Mrs. Gadnud asked, walking slowly to her kitchen.

"I guess I could have one. Thank you." Dean answered with his sweetest Dean Winchester grin.

Meanwhile…

Sam walked into the surprisingly active morgue. Usually there was no one in these places. The coroner was busy talking to some police officers in uniforms and some guys in rich looking suits.

"Crap," Sam whispered to himself as he silently retreated out of the morgue.

Dean's phone sounds some upbeat classic rock music until he finally picks up.

"Hello," Dean says into the phone.

"Hey Dean," Sam started, "Yeah, I couldn't get into the morgue. There are other FBI agents here."

"Yeah, so," Dean answered. "We still have a job to do, Sam."

"I know, but doesn't that strike you as weird. I mean, usually the FBI doesn't show up for a good week, if they ever show up at all."

"Maybe, they're other hunters or something. I'll call Bobby and have him check on it. Where are you?"

"Outside of the morgue. I'm gonna go to the library across the street to get the low down on some of the history here. You know, cover all the basics."

"Okay. I'll pick you up in a couple hours."

While Dean drove back to the motel, he called Bobby, who answered on the third ring.

"Dean?" Bobby asked instead of saying hello.

"Yeah," Dean answered a little surprised that Bobby knew who was calling. He didn't think that Bobby had caller ID on his home phone. "So Bobby, do you know of any hunters in the vicinity of Lake Shangrila, Wisconsin?"

"Yeah," Bobby answered, "He called about ten minutes ago to ask about you guys. Do you always have to use classic rock band members for your alias?"

"Yes, Bobby, I do. It's fundamental. Now who called you?" Dean answered, driving into the motel parking lot.

"A young hunter named Matt Baker. He called to ask about you and Sam, gave me the aliases, and I told him that you guys were fine and could handle whatever's happening in Lake Shangrila."

"So he should be gone?" Dean asked, grabbing his key to open the door and realizing that the door was already unlocked.

"I wish. But actually, he's probably going to hunt you down and tell you that you need to leave because this is his hunt and he can handle it," Bobby answered, exasperated.

"So he's like insane?" Dean asked.

"Not quite, he's more vengeful than insane. Oh and he really hated your dad, so stay away from him and do not engage in an argument with him."

Dean didn't answer. He was more concerned with his unlocked door, but didn't dare enter until he stopped talking to Bobby.

"I'm gonna call you back in a few minutes," Dean spoke into the phone.

"Dean did you hear me? Do not go near Matt! Dean!" Bobby yelled into the phone as Dean hung up, dropped the phone into his pocket, and pulled out his gun from the back of his waistband. Slowly opening the door, Dean slinked into the motel room.

**Thank you for reading. Please review, favorite, follow, if you find my story worthy of your precious computer space :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey it's me again. I am truly sorry about the extreme lateness of this chapter. I was really busy through September and had a lot of problems even uploading this. But better late than never, I guess. :) Enjoy!**

Inside was a man about Dean's age with wavy brown hair cut into a bowl cut, with his bangs sliding over his eyes.

"I take it you're Matt," Dean stated, his gun hanging loosely in his hand.

"My, my:" the man stood. "At least John had one smart kid. Too bad he couldn't have gotten two."

Dean drew the gun before Matt could even make a move: "What's that supposed to mean?"

The man laughed: "We'll have to find out, won't we?"

Matt jumped up, risking getting shot by Dean, and kicked out his knees. Two shots rang out; the bullets impeding themselves in the ceiling. Matt grabbed the gun out of Dean's hand and pinned him to the floor. The vibrating of his phone in his pocket caused Matt to pause for a moment.

"Are you going to get that? It seems important." Dean quipped.

"Shut up," Matt replied. Holding Dean's gun at its owner's head, Matt answered his phone.

"What do you want, Bobby?"

"Matt? What's that noise in the background?" Bobby answered. "Where are you?"

"Oh it's nothing:" he kicked Dean in the ribs to keep him quiet.

"Matt! You better not be muddling around in that stupid town. I told you to get out of dodge!"

"Sorry, Bobby, I can't do that. I'll call you later, ok? Something just came up."

Sam walked into the hotel room. He had been doing a little bit of research at the library after his quest at the coroner's office failed.

"Dean?" Sam half shouted as he looked up. Noticing the scene before him, he froze. "Who the hell are you?"

"No one," Matt answered, "Now if you don't want me to put a bullet through your brother's skull I would turn around and face the wall."

Sam obeyed, slowly. He wondered how they were going to get out of this one.

Meanwhile…

A teenage girl calls her older brother's phone over and over. He never picks up. Over and over the girl leaves the same message: "Where are you? I love you. I need you. Why did you have to leave me?" She sits in her mother's house on his bed, waiting for him to return for her and get her out of her alcoholic mother's house.

She picks up a framed picture of her father, mother, brother, and her taken about five years ago. They were on a trip to Arizona, to visit the Grand Canyon. They were happy. They were a family. But that was then.

Her mother yells up the stairs about how her life is so terrible and how no one is ever thankful for her being there, but the girl just ignores her. She's too busy with her own problems.

Back at the motel…

Matt ties Dean to one of the chairs next to the small table and trains the gun on Sam's head.

"You know I could really kill you. I would be totally indifferent, have a clear conscience even. I'd never give it a second thought. You're a monster." Matt whispered into Sam's ear.

"Leave him alone. You're crazy," Dean shouted. He would do anything to fix this right now.

Matt turns around to address Dean, but suddenly freezes. In fact the whole room freezes except Dean.

A short middle aged guy with slightly long hair, almost as long as Sam's, walks in and addresses Dean, "So are you just about ready to give this up, Dean?"

"What do you mean?" Dean asks, "Who are you?"

"Okay," the man answers, "Hate to break it to you princess, but you know you're not really in the situation to ask questions."

"But I don't understand," Dean protested, scanning the room for his gun.

"You will, soon enough," the man answered. "I'm just trying to jumpstart a prophecy. You know, so that I can minimize the damage."

"Whatever," Dean answered, huffing out his breath. He didn't have time for this. His time was slowly draining out. His baby brother was going down a dangerous road and he couldn't stop him.

"Can you save Sam?" Dean blurted out, his thoughts jumbling.

"If my plan works, everyone should be saved," the mysterious man answers.

"Why are you telling me this?" Dean eyes his gun, which he finally located in Matt's hand. He could hardly remember anything that happened before this crazy guy froze time. What can even freeze time?!

"I'm telling you this because I need you," the man answers, getting slightly frustrated with Dean's incompetence.

"What?"

The man finally turned his back on Dean, causing the hunter to make a mad dash for the gun. He fired off a few shots before the gun whips out of his hand and everything goes black.

A few seconds later…

Matt snaps awake, "What the hell?"

Sam feels dizzy and tumbles from the wall, landing on his hands and knees. "What just happened?"

"I don't even know," Matt whirls around, "Where'd he go?!"

Matt's phone rings and rings. With the gun still trained on Sam, he picks it up, "Hello?"

Over the line Sam can here Bobby's voice, "What the hell are you idgits thinking?-Matt pauses, trying to find something to tell him- Just as I thought, you weren't thinking. You, Sam and Dean better get your sorry asses to my house before I get over there and bash your heads in!"

"Yeah, about that, Bobby, Dean's gone," Matt answers, scared that Bobby might just drive over here and shoot him. He'd never heard Bobby this mad before.

"What do you mean he's 'gone'?" Bobby screams into the phone.

"I mean he vanished. Poof! Vamoose!" Matt answers, "He just disappeared."

"You idgits can't do anything, can you?!" Bobby yelled, "I'll be over in a few hours. Don't go anywhere. You hear me? I had better find both you and Sam in that motel room alive and well when I get over there or there will be hell to pay."

With that Bobby hung up the phone, spent a few minutes searching for his keys, and drove out of the driveway, going at least fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit. Matt sat down and tossed Dean's gun on the table, safety on, but still loaded.

"So Sam…" he started but didn't really know what to say. He wanted to kill the kid so bad, but he also knew that if Bobby found him gone and Sam's dead body on the ground he wouldn't live to see another day.

"Don't talk to me," Sam answered, angry and annoyed. "It's taking all my self-control right now to not rip you head off."

"Hey, hey. Easy there big guy, I wasn't actually going to do anything," Matt answered smoothly, "I'm not a killer." He wanted to add "like your father" to the end, but decided that if he wanted to stay alive, he should at least try to be polite.

"Yeah, whatever," Sam answered, worn out and wondering what happened to his brother. He wanted to freak out right now and start looking for him, but Bobby was on his way, and he was mad enough to threaten to kill both of them over the phone. He might never forgive Sam if he just up and left.

On the other side of the room Matt starts listening to voice mails. His eyes go slightly glossy, but he doesn't call whoever it was back.

For hours Sam and Matt are completely silent; neither one wanting to show the other their one weakness: Family.

**Thanks for reading! Please forgive me for my lateness! I hope to update very soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

Dean awoke in a strange place filled with all kinds of odd and ends. There was some antique china in the corner, a few books scattered on the floor, a lamp that looked like it had to be from the seventies, and a scythe that looked to be a few hundred years old. Although it was hard to notice these because the room was so crammed full of stuff that Dean's eyes couldn't focus on any one thing.

A man is standing in the corner, or at least Dean thinks one is. He tries to get up, but is too dizzy to stand.

"What the hell happened?" he whispers to himself, shaking the cobwebs out of his head.

"Ummm… You blacked out," a voice states from the corner.

Dean looks up again; his vision is starting to clear. He can now make out the man in the motel room clearly. His mind starts working a little better and he can kind of remember how he got here.

"What were you saying in the motel?" Dean asks, once again trying to stand. This time he succeeds.

"I was saying that I want to jump start a prophecy. You know, since it's already going to happen. This way I can minimize all the damage it's going to cause," the man explains, slowly walking toward Dean.

"Will it save my brother?" Dean asks, his energy draining away from him.

"We already have had this discussion! Yes, it will save everyone," the man nearly shouts, starting to lose his temper again. Dean inched back, slightly intimidated by this stranger.

"What do you need me for then?" Dean whimpers. His back hits the wall.

"You, Dean Winchester, are the last piece of the puzzle," he answers. "All I need is you. Then I can save the human race."

"Who are you?" Dean asks, feeling himself slump into darkness once again. In the background he can barely hear the words, "I'm the Trickster, of course."

The teenage girl hurries out of the rundown house that hasn't been home for what seems like forever. She fishes the keys to an old truck out of her purse starts the vehicle, pausing to think about what she is about to do.

"I have to find him. But where do I even look? I just can't lose him, not now," she says to the air around her and pulls out her phone, leaving one last message for her brother. "Where are you? I can't lose you. Okay? You need to come home. I need you."

With that last message ringing in her ears, she backs out of the driveway and begins her search for her brother.

Matt gets up and starts pacing the floor. "Could you stop?" Sam asks, "You're making me nervous."

"Sorry," Matt sits back down and listens to a few more voice mails. Finally there is a knock on the door. Sam jumps up and opens it to reveal Bobby.

"So did you find anything out?" Matt asks Bobby, getting straight to business. "I want to know what this thing is."

"Well, there are very few things that would go through all that trouble to kill some innocent people; One being a Trickster," Bobby answers, tossing some books onto the table. "That seems to be the most likely. But, Matt, before we get into the brunt of the book work, I need you to help me get some stuff from the trunk."

While Matt and Bobby walk out the door, Matt shutting it with a slight slam, Sam nestles down into one of the numerous books about lore that Bobby brought with him.

"So, Mathew, when was the last time you stopped back at home lately?" Bobby asks as he grabs his duffle bag out of the trunk.

"Why? There's absolutely nothing there for me," Matt answers, not looking the older man in the eye.

"What about Angel?"

"What about her?" Matt brought his eyes up to meet Bobby's gaze. "Last time I checked, she didn't need me anymore."

"When did she ever say that?" Bobby asks, his voice rising to get through Matt's stubbornness.

"Last week Friday, to be exact. She specifically told me that she didn't need or want me protecting her anymore. She said she could take care of herself."

"And you listened to her! You know that she never meant those words, and you know that she needs you right now."

"Whatever, Bobby," Matt opened the door and walked in and did what he did best, immersed himself in work so that he didn't have to deal with his problems.

Dean awakes once again in the room crammed with all kinds of random artifacts from numerous places and time periods. This time he is tied to a chair and can't move at all.

"Uhh…" he moans, his head pounding, "What's wrong with me?"

"Well, you see, most human bodies can't handle too much magic in a short amount of time. It's probably just a side-effect of being around me for too long," the man said in a considerably better mood than last time.

"Okay, as much fun as it is to have these chats, I must have to get down to business." The Trickster puttered around with a few things in the far corner of the room.

"What's that?" Dean asks, straining his neck to get a better view.

"Oh you know, nothing really, just a few ingredients to summon my brother so we can get this show on the road and whatever."

"Brother?"

"Did I say brother? Not my brother. What I meant to say is angel, archangel to be exact," he pauses, picking up a large bowl and muttering some incantation, "Well, Michael should be here any minute."


End file.
